WarCraft: The Reformation Book 1 Reign of Chaos
by DayDream Jedi
Summary: In another time and place, what would have happened if Arthas had not taken up the cursed runeblade Frostmourne? Who on Azeroth would have been capable of stopping him?


**WARCRAFT III**

**The Reformation**

**Book 1**

**Reign of Chaos**

**Chapter One: Northrend**

The cavern would have been unnerving enough had not wind, seeping through cracks to the outside, whistled a ghostly dirge. And even more unnerving than that was the pedestal, placed exactly in the center of the cave. Above this pedestal floated a chunk of ice that oddly looked as if it had been broken off a much larger piece. The ice glistened in a fashion that suggested that it wasn't normal ice, the surfaces a little too slick, too cold. A crunching of snow broke the stillness of the chamber and two armor-clad figures walked out of the shadows of the entrance. One was human, tall, proud, blond-haired and green-eyed, dressed in the armor of one of the Knights of the Silver Hand. The other was a dwarf, clad in silver and red armor and bearing both a hammer and a battleaxe, with an orange beard that would have made even other dwarves jealous.

They had come to this forsaken place for one reason alone and that reasoned hovered over the dais just a few short feet away. The man's eyes fastened upon the floating chunk of ice-but-not-ice and he grinned ferally.

"Behold Muradin, our salvation! Frostmourne!" said Prince Arthas Menethil in triumph. He began to walk towards the dais, one handing reaching up to touch the ice that hovered just above it. Suddenly Muradin ran forward and grabbed hold of his old friend's arm.

"Hold lad! There's an inscription on the dais. Let me have a look."

Arthas reluctantly backed off, his eyes still gazing at the ice and the dark object trapped inside it.

"It's in Kalimag, the elemental language," said Muradin, running one stubby finger over the ancient runes at the base of the dais, "It reads: Whomsoever takes up this blade shall wield power eternal. Just as the blade rends flesh, so must power scar the spirit… Oh I should've known! This bloody thing is _cursed!_ Let's get tha hell out of here Arthas!"

He turned to head back to the entrance but Arthas did not move. Instead he was still staring at the trapped sword.

"My spirit is already scared!" he growled and he was speaking truth. He was scarred from seeing what the undead had done to his people, scared by what he had been forced to do to the people of Stratholme and scared by what he had had to do here in Northrend to assure victory. A little more wouldn't do much to what was already in place, or so he thought.

"And I would gladly bear any curse to save my people!"

"Your people? This is nay about your people any more Arthas! It's about yer own lust for revenge! Leave it be! Forget this business and lead your men home!" Muradin pleaded. But Arthas wasn't about to be deterred. He fixed Muradin with the grimmest look he'd ever seen.

"Nothing shall prevent me from having that revenge old friend. Not even you."

"Then how about me?" called out a new, feminine voice. Both Arthas and Muradin whirled around to see that a woman had appeared in the entrance to the cavern, and not just any woman either.

"Jaina?" blurted Arthas in complete surprise. The woman, who was also blond, but with blue eyes, dressed in robes of white and lavender and a heavy blue cloak, solemnly stared back at him and began to walk slowly towards him and Muradin.

"Yes Arthas, it's me," she said, more softly this time, pulling her hood back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, harsher than he'd intended. She merely stopped when she was only a foot away from him, gazing at him coolly, then began to walk past him.

'I'm here to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life Arthas and it seems I may be the only one who can."

Arthas was about to ask her what she meant when she turned and now stood between him and Frostmourne.

"What are you doing Jaina? Get away from there!" he growled.

"Do you remember the Prophet that you ran into on the way to Stratholme?" she asked. Caught off guard, it took him a moment to answer.

"What the hell does that have to do with any of this? Get out of my way!" his voice was steadily rising and was beginning to echo eerily off the stone walls.

"Well he paid me a visit after… after Stratholme. He told me what was going to happen to you here in Northrend. I actually listened to him. This is all a giant trap Arthas. This sword," she gestured at the entrapped blade behind her, "is the bait and you are the prey. Why the undead want you I'm not sure but the one thing I do know is that you are not leaving here with that sword."

Arthas stared at her, dumbfounded. Then a rage ignited within him and he brought up his hammer.

"You're going to believe the words of that rambling preacher of doom? My soldiers are fighting and dying out there, my people are dying at home and now, when we have the one chance of victory in our grasp, you will stand against ME?"

"To save your soul, yes," she replied.

Arthas snarled and tried to go around her but she held up a hand, there was a flash of light and he stumbled back a few paces. Arthas glared back at her, surprised and ever more enraged. How dare she do this to him!

"So you would deny me again? Betray me as you did in Stratholme?" he snarled. Jaina looked for a moment as if she were going to shout back at him but then she composed herself and just glared back at Arthas.

"Jaina, this is the last time I'm going to tell you. Get. Out. Of. My. Way," he said, grinding out each of the words. Jaina, looking sadder than he'd ever seen her, sighed heavily and then dropped her staff to the ground.

"No Arthas. If you want this sword, you are going to have to come through me to get it."

Arthas couldn't believe this! How dare she stand between him and Frostmourne?

"So be it," he hissed icily. Raising his hammer over his head, he prepared to swing it down in a blow that would surely kill Jaina if she didn't block it in time.

"Arthas! What in the name of Ironforge do ya think your playin' at?" yelled Muradin. Arthas began to swing the hammer down, eyes still locked with Jaina's. There was no pleading, no tears, just calmness. What was she up to? The hammer was coming down straight for her head. It was almost there, why doesn't she put up a shield, thought Arthas. Closer. She still wasn't doing anything. Why she wasn't she doing anything! By the Light, the hammer would split open her skull like a ripe melon! In a sudden moment of clarity, Arthas realized that Jaina was really going to protect herself. Without truly thinking about it, he jerked the hammer to the side as Muradin dropped his weapons with a cry and reached up to grab Arthas' arm. They were a moment too late however. Arthas watched seemingly in slow motion as the hammer ruffled Jaina's silken hair, graze her left ear and then collide with her left shoulder. There was a horrible sound of metal on meat, a dull crunching noise and a sickening snap and Jaina shrieked. She instantly collapsed to the ground, her shoulder oddly depressed and slowly becoming soaked in blood. With mounting horror, Arthas could see her collarbone jutting up against the neck of her robes in a grisly compound fracture. Jaina was gasping now, the pain too much for her to breathe properly.

"Arthas…" breathed Muradin, staring down at Jaina in likewise fascination.

"I… I thought she would stop me…" he murmured.

Now Jaina was staring up at him, her eyes awash in tears.

"Arthas… hel… help…" she gasped. But Arthas couldn't stop staring at her as new visions crowded into his mind, visions of a beloved steed that had died before his time. Died, because of Arthas. Arthas' hands went limp and his hammer landed on the ground with a thud.

"What have I done…?" he murmured. Collapsing to his knees, he stared at his hands, seeing the blood of both Invincible and Jaina dripping from the gloved fingers.

"What have I done?" he cried. At that moment, Muradin grabbed him by a shoulder and backhanded him across the face.

"Snap out of it boy!" he bellowed, loud enough to make dust fall from the ceiling. The blow wrenched Arthas' head around and he turned it back slowly to look at Muradin, who looked absolutely thunderous.

"Yes…" he rasped. Freed of his delirium, he practically crawled over to Jaina's side. The unnaturally protruding collarbone and the blood and her beautiful face screwed up in agony almost made him sick to his stomach. He moved his hands towards her shoulder and then stopped. He'd fallen so far, would the Light even come to him again? And then he felt it, like the warmth of the newly risen sun. He bit back a sob as his hands began to glow with the familiar Light. The Light had not abandoned him, he could heal Jaina, he wouldn't lose her like he lost Invincible. But something was still tugging at the back of his mind. He glanced up at the dais where Frostmourne glittered within its icy cask, its runes glowing a cool blue/

_Sacrifices must be made…_

Arthas hesitated. The Light began to fade away.

"Arthas."

Jaina's voice snapped him out of his reverie. She was no longer gasping in pain and though her eyes were still wet with tears she gazed up at him, calm and trusting.

"Arthas, please…" she whispered. The glow around Arthas' hands increased and he placed them over her shoulder. He flinched slightly as he felt the wet blood through her robes but he concentrated and poured the Light into her broken shoulder. There was a bright, golden flash. Arthas blinked and looked down at Jaina's shoulder, though still soaked in blood, now looked healthy and whole again. With Muradin's help, she was able to sit up. Arthas, tears of his own threatening to fall just stared back at her in partial shock.

"Jaina, I…" he started to say, but couldn't finish. Jaina reached out and put a slender finger to his lips.

"There'll be time for talking later. Right now, we need to get out of here." Then, acting as if she hadn't just been on the ground shuddering in pain, she got up and with Muradin's help, got Arthas to his feet and guided him swiftly out of the cave before the shock fully wore off. She had no intention of letting him have any second thoughts about Frostmourne.

**-WarCraft-**

Once they were back at the camp, Arthas took charge again. The situation was not looking good though. Outnumbered and with no way to retreat (thanks mainly to him). The one bright spot on the horizon was Jaina. Arthas had never seen her really cut loose before, but then again, she'd never really had a need to. Against undead, she had no compunctions against unleashing the full fury of her arcane powers.

"Even with the young missy's powers on our side, we cannae take Mal'Ganis' keep with the forces we have lad," said Muradin, during a break between waves of undead. We just have to few forces left.

"And if we retreat they will be free to slaughter us all the way back to the coast. Besides, there is no way for us to retreat. We will have to try and take the keep," said Arthas.

"There is another way," said Jaina, returning from where she had been up at the front. "I'm tired, but with the runes I brought with me and the help of one or two other mages, I should be able to open a portal back to Lordaeron." Arthas looked as if he was about to protest, when Jaina cut in, "Don't say it Arthas! Your soldiers are tired and outnumbered. This battle is one that you were never meant to win, or need I remind you that this is a trap? Don't let your men suffer for it Arthas, I beg of you. There's been too much of that already."

"So we let Mal'Ganis sit here and rebuild his forces and then come for us again?" Arthas shot back, though with less of the venom that had been in his tone lately.

"I'm saying that you can come back when we know more of what we're dealing with here and can have the power to stop him."

"Aye lad, she's right. I taught you how tae fight, how to be a good warrior. Remember, that part of being a good warrior is knowing what battles to fight and when," added Muradin.

"Very well, enough lectures if you please," Arthas sighed, bowing his head and bracing himself on the chart table in front of him. In the distance a footman cried out, "The undead are advancing again! Defensive positions!"

"Arthas?" Jaina asked tentatively. Arthas straightened, his face composed into a grim mask.

"Jaina, create the portal. Muradin, organize the men for retreat."

A few minutes later, the portal was up and running and Arthas' soldiers were streaming through it. Just as the last of the soldiers began filing through, the undead launched an all-out assault against their base. With Jaina helping to maintain the portal, she couldn't lend her might to the defense. Fortunately Arthas could and it certainly helped that Mal'Ganis was leading the charge. Arthas gripped his hammer in his hands and glared at Mal'Ganis, feeling the old hate welling up inside him. Then he noticed that the glow of his hammer was dying again. Maybe Jaina and Muradin had been right after all.

_Please, just one last time._

The hammer began to glow again as Arthas summoned up all the righteous fury he could muster until his hammer was blazing white, bright enough to light up the sky. The Scourge actually paused, the mindless ghouls and crypt fiends blinded by the light. Arthas swung the hammer down with all the force he could muster and sent a wave of gold-white light against the wave of undead. The first few ranks were turned completely to ash as the wave struck them, with the rest being knocked down, writhing in agony, including Mal'Ganis. Arthas desperately wanted to run to the demon and cave its skull in with Light's Vengeance but he knew that he would be killing himself as well. Perhaps that would be better. He could make up for what he'd done… what he'd done to Jaina…

"Arthas!" He turned and saw her calling to him, the portal beginning to fade. They were the last ones. He stared into Jaina's eyes, seeing her worry… and trust. By the Light, even after all this, she still trusted him?

"Mal'Ganis! If you want me, come back to Lordaeron and get me, coward! If you dare! I am nobody's pawn!" Arthas turned and ran towards the portal. He and Jaina leapt through, leaving the cold wastes of Northrend and Mal'Ganis' Scourge behind them.

Climbing to his cloven feet, Mal'Ganis stared balefully at the spot where the portal had been.

"You were supposed to take the blade. Perhaps the Lich King underestimated you."


End file.
